Of Vice and Virtue
by novamox
Summary: "We were made for each other." "Screw you, I wasn't made for this." It's hard enough reaching the expectations of a super-powered being. It's even harder when the balance of the heavens rests on your shoulders. (Original Pairings; Rewritten)
1. Choose Wisely

**A/N: Have you ever read over your past writings and cringed for like a minute straight? Yeah, that happened to me. I cringed so hard I almost fell out of my chair. But no worries! I'm back and uninjured. Ready to try my hand at writing again. If you read this story already, you may be able to tell I changed somethings. Ya girl like to move too fast and it was really affecting the direction of the story. We're just gonna take it nice and slow from here on out. For any newcomers, welcome! Take your coat off! Enjoy your stay. Get comfortable because you're not going anywhere. :)**

 **Disclaimer: do we still need these? I mean, its fanfiction. We all know who really owns this whole thing.**

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A white-cloaked figure hid among an alley shadowed by the surrouding skyscrapers. As the figure levitated slightly above the ground, it's golden irises focused on the three extraordinary young girls standing defiantly over their latest victory. Paparazzi and newscasters flooded the young girls, and if they had been any other children, they would have cowered away from the overwhelming crowd.

But these weren't just any ordinary kids. They were the—

"Powerpuff Girls! Powerpuff Girls!" A reporter shook his microphone in their faces, hoping to get the scoop on the daily lives of the little wonders who protected their city, "How do you balance your academics with fighting these huge monsters every single day?"

The blue-eyed girl tilted her head. "Academics means school, right Blossom?"

"School?" The green-eyed one exclaimed. "Look at this thing. You want me to sit in a boring classroom after killing this? The bastard looks like he crawled out of the lowest rings of Hell. I ain't goin—

The pink eyed girl slapped a hand over her sister's mouth as the paparazzi balked at the girl's language. The white cloaked figure let out a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes in the distance. The little green girl didn't know how right she was.

"I like the green one." A harshly grave voice rasped from over her shoulder. The white-cloaked figure plopped back on her feet in shock. She turned to the black cloaked figure behind her.

"Kharon, you're not supposed to be here." She hissed.

The figure lifted his shoulders into a shrug. "You were taking too long. I came to see if any progress was made."

"Well, your impatience is risking my "progress". It takes time to find the right virtues. Unlike vices, who can be picked up off the street...or out of the toilet."

"Whatever. Just hurry up, unless you want to spend the rest of eternity in purgatory." And with that Kharon disappeared. A thin wisp of smoke and the stench of cigarettes and decay was left behind.

The white-cloaked figure shook her head before focusing her eyes, completely gold from the sclera to the pupil, back on the three girls. A few seconds later, the green one furrowed her eyebrows and vigorously rubbed her fists against her eyes. The blue one blinked quickly for a few seconds as if trying to clear something away. Finally, the pink one's eye twitched and her little smile for the press fought to be a grimace.

"What Buttercup was trying to say is that we take school just as seriously as protecting the city. Education is very important and..."

"Just close your eyes, little one." The figure spoke with a velvety voice. Blossom inhaled and let her eyelids fall. When she exhaled, her pink eyes opened and were noticeable brighter. "And we, the Powerpuff Girls, hope to be an inspiration to all children that you can do anything you put your mind to. We are the future."

The press swarmed her with more questions but were waved away by the short, little mayor who began to address the crowd. The girls flew off towards their home and a widespread grin stretched across the figures face. Her work was done and in a wisp of white vapor, she was gone.

—  
"Here, kitty kitty. Here. Come on, Calico." A white cat with orange-splotched fur cowered in the back corner of the plastic kennel. The blonde woman beckoned with her fingers and made kissy noises with her pink lips.

The cat meowed in response and slowly stalked out onto the counter and into the young woman's open arms.

"There ya go." She cooed and passed her hand softly over the animals small head. "She's all yours."

"Thank you so much!" An older man grabbed the cat and passed it down to his waiting child.

"Lemmie see him. Lemie see him!" The little girl took the cat into her outstretched arms and snuggled it against her cheek. The cat purred in familiarity. Tears gathers in the young woman's eyes as she watched the reunion. The man smiled down at his child then turned to face the woman..

"You're a blessing, Bubbles. A God-sent."

"Don't mention it. It's my job." The blonde blushed and waved as the duo left with the cat. Her bright blue eyes trailed up to the clock hanging above the door. She gasped as the hands inched closer to lunchtime.

"Oh, dear!" Bubbles tossed her white apron onto the hanger and snatched her purse from the table.

"Bye, Mrs. Pettington!" Bubbles waved at the front office as she exited the building. The busy streets of Townsville appeared before her. She lifted her hand to hail a taxi. A dusty yellow car immediately pulled to the side and Bubbles climbed in.

"Downtown, please."

As she rode to her destination, Bubbles sat in silence and let her eyes wander over the citizens of Townsville. It was the textbook urban environment. Men and women of all ages stalked the streets, some with suitcases and other with phones glued to their ears. Unsupervised children licked at their ice cream before the sun could melt it. All of the bustling city life didn't keep the birds and the squirrels from making their own habitat.

Bubbles was inspired by it all. Life itself brought her so much joy, she could barely keep from containing her bright smile. Bubbles left the taxi fare with a small tip and stepped out of the car, her smile infectious as she practically lit up the street corner.

Her arms swung by her side as she opened the door to the familiar cafe and plopped down at the table where her two sisters sat.

"'Bout time you got here." Buttercup muttered, stirring her vegetable smoothie with her straw.

"Sorry, I had a client come in to pick up his cat at the last minute. Did I keep you guys too long?" Bubbles tugged on her low pigtails.

"Chill, Bubs. I was just messing with ya." Buttercup took a sip and rested her elbows on the table. "I'm bored and Blossom here is just being a party pooper."

Bubbles quickly looked at her red-headed sister, who shot a look at Buttercup. "What's wrong, Blossom?"

"She's crying because her new captain boss lady or whatever isn't taking her skills seriously." Buttercup cut in before Blossom could speak. "I said to hell with Townsville PD and just start your own vigilante group."

Blossom tried to speak, "Buttercup-

"Well, we kinda already did that. You know, the whole 'Powerpuff Girls save the day' thing?" Bubbles said.

"Guys-" Blossom tried again.

"True, but still. Instead of giving out parking tickets, leader girl could be taking out the underground bad guys. She's got better intuition than most of the dumbnuts on the force." Buttercup took a short sip from her smoothie.

"Hello-" Blossom growled.

"Maybe it's a good thing for her. It's been a long time since we've had to fight any big monsters or crazy villains. She's probably a little rusty." Bubbles whispered the last bit.

"Girls! You cannot possibly be talking about me as if I'm not sitting right in front of you." Blossom looked sharply at her two sisters as her smooth voice took on an authoritative tone.

Buttercup rolled her eyes as a waiter approached the table to take their orders. "Uh, yeah. We kinda were."

"But seriously, Blossom," Bubbles glanced at her the screensaver of her phone after ordering a lemonade. Confetti and balloons filled the background of the picture as Blossom beamed in her royal blue police uniform with her arms draped around her sisters. Bubbles grinned with a fist pumped in the air while Buttercup gave a modest, almost uncomfortable smirk. Cops were never her thing. "You literally just graduated from the academy. Don't you think starting off slow is better? I mean, when was the last time we did any crime-fighting?"

"Normally, I would agree with you Bubbles, but I'm wasting my potential. All the skills I've acquired as a Powerpuff girl have to mean something. I can be a bigger help for the detectives than my captain realizes. I think I have what it takes to be a detective."

"So do we, but you can't just go in there shaking up the system. That's my thing." Buttercup said, slurping obnoxiously from the pretty much empty smoothie. "Who is this new chick anyway? The captain we know adored us when we were kids."

"It's some new woman they brought it a couple years ago. The precinct isn't really happy about it, I've heard, but they can't do anything about it. Captain McCarthy retired early and the Commissioner apparently really wanted her." Blossom shrugged, stirring the lemon in her water.

"If it's upsetting you this much, maybe you should talk to her." Bubbles warmly touched Blossom's hand.

"I will. I'm actually going to meet with her today...in like an hour." Blossom exhaled and straightened her jacket.

"Good luck." Buttercup said as Bubbles gasped.

"I'm sure it will go well. You're _the_ Blossom Utonium. Just speak your mind and be firm about it. We'll be here to talk about it afterwards. Right, Buttercup?" Bubbles said. Buttercup gagged a little before Bubbles lightly slapped her arm.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Try not to get fired." Bubbles moved to wrap her small hands around Buttercup's throat, but Blossom only chuckled.

"Thanks, girls."

"Anytime." Buttercup replied with a smug gaze directed at Bubbles. She grabbed the lemonade from her sister's hand and left her with another vegetable smoothie that no one knows where she was hiding. "Catch ya later."

"Buttercup!" Bubbles groaned, "Good luck with your captain, Blossom. You're gonna be fine." And the blue-eyed young woman rushed out the door.

" _Buttercup, give it back!"_

" _You work with sick animals all day. You need antioxidants, not sugar."_

" _I'm literally made of sugar!"_

Blossom shook her head and smiled as the conversation reached her superpowered ears. She couldn't imagine loving anything else more than her two siblings. Her pink eyes glanced at the silver watch on her wrist. Anxiety bubbled up in her stomach. Blossom stood, smoothed our her polyester uniform slacks and left money on the table before exiting the cafe.

—

"Hey! Stop! Police!"

His feet moved quickly, with one arm clutching the brown leather satchel close to his body. The young man's wavy golden hair whipped against his forehead as he looked behind him. Two police officers were locked on him. One had her hand stuck to her gun holster, the other clutching his radio, no doubt shouting their location into it. He whipped his head to look forwards, ignoring the irritated protests of the pedestrians he crashed into.

The rush of adrenaline and the tightness in his chest excited him. The calculations of his robbery and escape raced through his mind. The "possessions" he takes home are just a plus. It was the rush that he was addicted to. The blonde bared his teeth in a grimace. These slow cops were no match for his speed. He had already won. The adrenaline was wearing off. He shot off into the air with a blue streak following behind.

"Boomer Jojo, you are one smooth son of a gun." He said to himself as he pulled his satchel from his side and peered into it. He smirked reminiscing on the one of the many catchphrases his green brother would use when they were kids. He looked up and his eyes locked onto his destination.

Boomer floated down to the front entrance of the residential high-rise. He pushed through the revolving glass doors, gave the concierge a two-finger salute as she buzzed him in, and whistled a happy tune as he rode the elevator to the upper floors.

He rapped his fist on the door, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he waited. The door flew open and forest green eyes pierced down into his own cobalt ones. The two stared at each other for a beat before Butch pulled his younger brother under one of his beefy arms and roughly rustled his hair.

"What brings you here, you little shit?" Butch said with gritted teeth.

"Geez, what a way to greet your brother who brings you gifts." Boomer struggled under the stronger man's grasp. Butch pulled him farther into his expensive condo and shut the door behind them.

"Gifts? Oh, fuck yeah, let me see what you got." He rubbed his hands together. Boomer shoved his hand into his satchel and brought out a tangle of sparkling necklaces, chains and rings.

"Boomer, what is this?"

"What?" Boomer looked up from his "possessions" innocently.

"You robbed a jewelry store? What are we, thirteen? This is the age of technology. Where are the expensive-ass watches that tell you when it's time to piss and stupid shit like that?" Butch circled around his granite bar counter into the kitchen, pouring himself a drink before moving to plop down on his couch.

"I didn't feel like going all out. There's a lot of heat out there. Besides..." Boomer began to crack his knuckles.

"Oh, fuck. I know that look. What do you want from me now? Money? Girls? Cops off your back?"

"Nah, none of that. I was just wondering if you got any...gifts...I could have." Boomer rubbed the back of his neck.

"What kind of 'gifts'?" Butch lifted an eyebrow.

"You know, like, drugs. Like, heroin?"

"The hell? What makes you I think I would give that shit to you?" Butch finished his drink and licked his lips.

"...Aren't you, like, the main drug guy or something? You run the streets, right? Or did you, like, quit?" Boomer watched him stand and walk to his kitchen.

"Boomer, shut up. What the fuck are you gonna do with that shit, anyways? Become a junkie? Hang out on the street with all the other loser addicts? Nah, not my little bro."

Boomer laughed in an attempt to lighten his sibling up. "Come on, Butch. I'm not gonna be a junkie. You know how Chemical X works...or were you not listening when Mojo used to ramble about it?"

Butch's glass shattered and Boomer flinched, staring at his brother's hand, now clutching broken glass. "Please, don't fucking mention that stupid monkey's name in my house."

"Alright, bro." Boomer raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying, all I want is a fix."

"For fucks sake, Boom. If I give you a fucking "gift" , will you leave me alone?" Butch grunted, inspecting his hand for cuts that weren't going to be there.

"You don't want me to stick around?" Boomer put on a fake pout. Butch paused and looked fixedly at Boomer.

"Don't tempt me." His temperament shifted and his deep forest green eyes were soft. Boomer blinked as a brief flash of their adolescence appeared in his mind. An 18-year old Butch stared back at him.

" _I know what you're doing. You're trying to trap me here."_

" _Boomer, what the fuck are you talking about? I'm not trying to trap you. I'm trying to keep you safe."_

 _Boomer threw his leather satchel over his head. "Safe my ass. I'm not trying to stay anywhere near_ him _."_

 _Butch scoffed and rubbed his temples. Boomer's eyes hardened. He was even turning into the unmentionable asshole._

 _"Stop being_ _a dumbass. Boomer, you don't know what the streets are like. You won't survive."_

" _I've been watching you do it long enough. Now you watch me." And he flew out the window, a blue streak following behind._

"Boom." Boomer came back to reality from a stinging slap to his temple.

"Oi, fuck." Boomer rubbed a hand against his head.

"You back on Earth now?" Butch gazed at him with lifted eyebrows. Boomer cleared his throat and blinked.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here..."

"You probably didn't hear me say I'll have my people call you."

Boomer slowly shook his head, his mind on the journey back from his memory.

"No? You weren't here for any of that?" Butch tsked. Boomer scratched his head and his eyes focused back on Butch, now back to his 23-year old self, with those dominating green eyes and dangerous vibe.

"Sorry, bro."

"Just get the fuck out of my sight." Butch twirled Boomer around and pushed him towards the exit.

"Wait, wait. Is there a discount code I get to use or something?" Boomer asked as he met the front door.

Butch cackled. "You're already high on something now, aren't ya Boomer?"

"No?"

"It would've been funnier if you had said yes. Catch ya fucking later, hermano." Butch said with a middle finger and a brotherly shove. Boomer shook his head with a smirk as the door slammed behind him.

"Bastard."

—

"Buttercup!"

"What?" Buttercup landed hit after hit onto the punching bag. A short, stocky man with a magazine gripped in his hairy hands, strode to her side, but not too close. He knew the dangers of standing next to a focused Buttercup.

"You did not tell me you were going to be in this month's BodyRight magazine." The man stepped further back as Buttercup sent a roundhouse kick to the bag. The metal chains creaked from the force, threatening to let loose of their hold on the gym ceiling.

" _Buttercup believes in a strong exercise regiment and commits to a healthy diet of water and nutritious smoothies_? Ha! More like a healthy diet of sweat and tears from her clients."

"Very funny, VIctor."

" _Buttercup trains celebrities and the like from around the world and has glowing reviews to show_? More like her clients are too scared they will be rolled into their yoga mats and tossed onto the freeway if they say otherwise." VIctor held his round stomach as he cackled.

"You should be a comedian." Buttercup deadpanned.

"I'm only playing with you." The man chortled, "I've got people lined up to exercise at the same gym as the great Buttercup Utonium. I have you to thank for a raise in profits."

"Hey, as long as you promise to stop making that Russian tea or whatever, I'll be here forever."

Victor looked offended and held the magazine to his heart. "What is wrong with my tea? It's a family tradition."

"Victor, it makes the place smell like shit! I know. My sister made me volunteer to help her clean up the doggy park once." Buttercup scrunched up her nose and punched the bag.

"Alright, alright. Just remember you traded your freedom for tea."

"Not just any tea. Shit-smelling tea." Buttercup pointed a finger at Victor. He threw his hands up and walked away to the front desk. Buttercup smirked and continued to wail on the punching bag, until it busted and grains of sand began to seep out.

"Damn it." She glanced around the empty gym. Sunday was everyone's "sit at home and relax day". Everyone except for Buttercup, of course, who was glad that no one was there to see her destroy company property. She unhooked the bag and threw it over her shoulder. "Victor, how about I let you keep the shit tea if you buy quality punching bags."

"Buttercup, behave yourself." He waved his hands and muttered something in Polish. "You have a new client who would like your services." He motioned towards a woman with a ponytail and a purse standing in front of the desk.

"Alright, well you're gonna have to change into some real work out clothes." Buttercup said, gazing at her simple button-up top and jeans.

"Oh, no. This is not for me. I'm here for my son." She stepped aside and both Victor and Buttercup widened their eyes. A boy, who looked no more than seven years old, stood awkwardly by his mother's legs. His curly hair was disheveled and the tan skin of his cheek was faintly bruised.

"Uh...I don't deal with kids." She said, but couldn't tear her eyes away from the chocolate ones of the little boy.

"Please. We just moved here and he doesn't have many friends or kids to play with...he's being bullied at school." The little boy silently stood and gazed off into the distance as if he couldn't hear his mother talking about him.

"Well, for the right price, I'm sure Buttercup would love to train the kid." Victor said. Before he could talk about pricing, the woman rummaged through her purse and pulled out a few crumpled bills. She shook her purse, listening for any spare change.

"This is all I have right now, but I...I can get more. Please. I just want to feel secure about my boy when I'm at work." Buttercup cringed at the begging tone in the woman's voice. Victor's words sounded muffled against her ears. All she could focus on was the little boy in his dingy white tank top, faded basketball shorts and timid eyes.

"Don't worry about it. I'll work with him." Buttercup said. She could feel the gaze of the other two adults locked onto her but the little boy was all she could focus on. Silence barely had time to fill the room before the woman broke out in tears of joy.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" The mother took Buttercup's hand and shook it with zeal. "When can he start?"

Buttercup shrugged. "Now." The woman smiled, then looked down at her son.

"Okay, Carlos, go with the green lady." The mother pushed Carlos closer to Buttercup. "I'll be back in an hour, mijo."

Then it was Victor, Buttercup, and Carlos. Carlos looked at Buttercup. Buttercup looked at Victor. Victor shrugged.

"This is all yours." He walked away. Buttercup blew out a sigh and dropped the broken punching bag on the ground.

"Let's go, kid." Buttercup led him to the mat area. She stood in front of the mirror with her hands on her hips. He stood in front of her and silently scratched his arm.

"So...you're name's Carlos, right?"

He simply stared.

"I had a friend named Carlos. Well...he wasn't a friend. He was cousins with this kid i knew named Pablo. I had to beat him up 'cause Pablo told him I said shut up and he wanted to fight me for it. I mean, it wasn't my fault his little cousin couldn't take a joke." Buttercup took a breath.

Carlos stared.

"What have I gotten myself into?" She muttered to herself.

—

"Kharon, I'm getting worried."

Kharon's coal black eyes followed the white cloaked female as she paced back and forth, hands clasped in front of her chest and her head bowed.

"Obviously." He grunted. The hood of his black cloak was casually pulled over his head. He crossed his arms behind his head and rested.

"How can you be so lazy at a time like this?" She turned to him, hands falling to her sides in frustration.

Kharon shrugged from his casual position on the ground. "It's in my genes."

The feminine figure scoffed. "We are not even made after human genetics."

"It's a saying. Lighten up, Jia." He chuckled and let his eyes roll under his lids.

"Lighten up? Look around us!"

Kharon lifted his head slightly from the jagged tombstone he had made his pillow and gazed around the quietly aging cemetery. Vines curled and squeezed around the old tombstones riddled with once maintained grass was now tall and brittle, brushing against the steel fence that enclosed the large, abandoned area. A slight breeze had begun and the smell that accompanied it wasn't exactly pleasant.

"Better than the purgatory." Kharon said and Jia let out an anguished grunt.

"We're stuck in the middle of nowhere with no idea how to get to our chosen people. For all we know, they could be...fraternizing already!"

Kharon snorted.

"What?" Jia gruffed.

"You're heavens away from the big guy and you're still scared to use a little language. Just say it. They've probably already fucked, which means the world is probably fucked and in that case, we're definitely fucked."

Jia's hands were tightly clenched in fists. A white mist began to steam from her hands. Kharon's eyes were closed but his own body was emanating an offensive heat. If they both didn't cool down, a holy fight would ensue.

"Well," Jia cleared her throat and tried to resume her holy posture despite the demonic heathen lazing in front of her. "We can't just sit around and do nothing. We will soon be in the purgatory if we don't figure something out."

"We broke the rules. We're going there whether we like it or not."

"We broke the rules to redeem ourselves from our past mistakes. If you thought this plan wouldn't work, why did you agree to it?" Jia seethed through clenched teeth.

Kharon smirked. "I like playing God sometimes."

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 **A/N: Welp, that was it. The first new chapter of Vice and Virtue. Please take the time to let me know what you think. My self-esteem and will to continue rests on the validation of other people. :)**


	2. Some Regrets

**A/N: Hello, ladies and gentleman. I hope the wait for this chapter wasn't too long. I didn't want to rush anything with this story. But school is over and I'm eager to show you all what I've come up with. Upload should be sooner this time around he he. Enough out of me, enjoy!**

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Chapter 2

The hardwood bench creaked as Blossom plopped herself down onto the worn green cushion. She hunched over her morning coffee, tipping her head back to take a long sip and sighing deeply when she finished. 

"Hey, Blossom!" A passing officer waved with a nice smile. Blossom lifted a meager hand and returned the smile. 

"Utonium." Another cop pointed finger guns at her. "Thanks for switching squad cars with me. That damn heater has been giving me problems all winter. I hope you weren't too cold." 

"It was fine. Let me know if you want to switch again." Blossom gave another tired smile and nod as the cop walked away. 

"Blossom!" Another cop came to crouch down by her. "I appreciate you staying on the phone with me last night. I don't know anyone else patient enough to hear me yapping for three hours." 

"No problem- 

"And I took your advice. I dumped that asshole that same night. I deserve so much better." 

"Yes you do, Officer Lee." 

"I'll see you around." The officer patted Blossom's shoulder. Blossom let out another deep sigh, downed the rest of her coffee and tossed it in the trash next to her. Her eyelids drooped over her pink irises and wisps of her strawberry blonde hair stuck to her flushed cheeks as the lukewarm liquid slid disappointingly down her throat. 

Blossom had stayed up until the late hours of the night, practicing. Today was the day she planned to confront the new captain. You couldn't tell just from looking at her, but Blossom was nervous as hell. Approaching authority figures was never her strong suit. It was her character flaw. She held too much respect, put them on a pedestal, idolized them, whatever you want to call it. Blossom had a problem.

But today she was going to get over it. One way or another.

The redhead stood up, took another deep inhale and exhale of oxygen, and brushed invisible dust off of her uniform. Her fingers ghosted over the empty space under her left shoulder. She could have had a plate of decorations on her uniform, just from her bravery as a child superhero. But Blossom didn't want that. She wanted to be just like the officers around her. Blossom wanted to earn her commendations as a regular member of the law enforcement. Not some Chemical X infused super-being.

The swish-swish of someone walking quickly grabbed her attention.

"Utonium." She looked up just as her name was called. A lanky man of average height in a brown, business casual suit rushed towards her. His detective badge shined on his left hip. One hand held a thick manila folder while the other a large coffee mug.

"Interrogation 2." Blossom barely heard what he had said but followed him with curious eyes anyways. Detectives held some unspoken power in this precinct. If the pink powerpuff aspired to be anything more than a patrol cop, she would be inclined to listen to what the man had to say.

"What's this about?" He closed the door before opening his mouth to answer.

"We've got this case. It's a big one. Could take down some very important people in very important places." He paused to look very seriously into her eyes, as if she were a child who needed to comprehend something important.

"Okay..." Blossom nodded, patiently waiting for him to continue.

The detective sighed.

"We're so close, we just need a little bit more evidence and we could make a big break. I want to bring you in."

Blossom's eyebrows furrowed. "Me? With all due respect-" She paused to look for a nametag or something.

"Milton." He filled in.

"Detective Milton. I'm a beat cop. I literally just started. I don't think I'll have time to provide much help while I'm walking the streets."

"That's the thing. We want you off the streets. I'm talking an undercover operation here, Utonium."

Undercover. That was way above Blossom's pay-grade. It was also just the thing she needed to prove to the captain that she could be more valuable to the force. Maybe this was a test. Maybe the captain was assessing Blossom's skills.

"I'll do it." The words left her mouth before she could think twice. If there was something Blossom was good at, it was definitely tests.

The detective breathed out a sigh of relief. "Great. Let's go over the details. You'll be set up at Morebucks Industries."

Blossom's body tingled with dread. She spoke too soon. "What's going on there?" She asked tentatively. There was no way Blossom could just step into the business place of Princess Morebucks's family. They were all lunatics, just like their spoiled daughter, who hated her guts by the way.

"We'll get to that. First, you need to be prepared for the interview." The detective dropped the manila folder onto the table. The thick stack of stark white paper was bright in the dim interrogation room.

"Interview, what-"

"For the secretary job that was posted. We've got you scheduled for 10 am. You're up in less than 2 hours."

"Wha-!"

"It shouldn't be too hard. The qualifications are extremely low. A blind bimbo could get the job. Honestly, you'll probably have to dumb down your language a little-"

"Detective-

"You'll be working under Morebucks Inc.'s current Chair of Domestic Affairs, Brick Jojo." Milton was too busy sifting through the myriad of papers to see Blossom's pink eyes pop wide open.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

The detective glanced up for a second, "What? Did I say somethin' funny?" He said as he continued through the files.

Blossom wanted to say "Hello-o, doofus! I'm a Powerpuff. He's a Rowdyruff. The worst matchmaker in the world wouldn't put us in the same room! This case is bound to go up in flames. Literally!"

But the redhead wasn't like her hot-headed sister. She was composed, as she had always been known to be.

"It's just, me and...Mr. Jojo have a past—"

"—Yeah, yeah. We know about that. Weren't you kids like six or seven? All you did was ruin the city once or twice with your little quarrels. You should be over that by now."

"I mean-"

"—Plus, we're not even after him. We're after his boss. Richard Morebucks. He's practically untouchable. According to our inside guy, Brick seems to be one of his closest workers. So, we need you to get inside Jojo's business and find us our evidence."

Blossom sighed, placing one hand down on the cold, metal table and the other on her hip.

"Evidence of..." Blossom decided not to comment on the fact that they seemed to already have someone on the inside.

"Tax fraud." Milton said with a smirk.

Blossom raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" She was going to risk her sanity, no, her life, just to catch a rabid capitalist on overdue taxes?

"No, no, the bastard is good for a lot more than that but hey, that's how they finally got Al Capone, right?" Milton leaned back in his chair with his arms folded behind his head.

Blossom took what felt like the fifteenth deep breath that day. Memories of the angry red eyes of a boy designed purely for her destruction resurfaced. She heard his rough voice and saw that battered red hat.

She tried to imagine him older and mature, but couldn't get past a teenage version of him from when the girls had traveled to the future to see what it was like to live as normal teenagers.

Blossom cringed. She was relieved when that phase in life turned out much differently. But now with this whole...situation? She was walking right into the lion's den.

"So, are you saying...Brick is like Townsville's Al Capone?"

"Nah, Richard Morebucks is. Now, Blossom," Milton's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "I get that this is a lot, but I believe in you. You're a Powerpuff, for goodness sake. Plus, this could get you some points with the captain. Those lousy street patrols could be a thing of the past." Milton gave Blossom a knowing look.

"Is she the one who picked me for the job?" Blossom felt her cheeks warm. She probably shouldn't have asked, but she was dying to know. Damn, she had to get over this authority thing.

"Oh, no, no, no. She has no clue about this operation. Honestly, she tried to shut this case down last time I brought it to her, saying it was a waste of time or some bull. I think she's just afraid of looking like a failure as a new captain, y'know, if this case falls through. But it won't. Because we've got our secret weapon." He winked.

Blossom nodded with a meager smile on her lips. "Well in that case, I've got it covered."

Blossom certainly didn't have a problem with self-confidence and she wasn't necessarily afraid of Brick Jojo or the Morbucks family. Honestly, Blossom wasn't sure what was making her stomach do backflips.

Maybe it was just the fact that she just started and now her entire job was kind of on the line. Or that she wasn't the very best liar, which is the entire design of undercover, though she was certainly better than Bubbles.

Blossom just hoped she wouldn't come to regret this.

—

Brick had never regretted skipping his morning coffee so much. The longer those pink eyes stared into his, the more his entire brain seemed to throb. He almost didn't recognize her, but those eyes were unmistakable.

He wasn't really surprised. It's not like the Powerpuff Girl didn't grow up here. Brick just expected her to be a suburban housewife, with two kids and an excessively large swimming pool or something.

He didn't expect Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes to be standing in front of him in a pink blouse that was designed for her cleavage and a pair of shiny black Fuck-Me Heels. A normal man would be burning up from desire at the sight of a woman like Blossom, but Brick was burning up for an entirely different reason.

"You've gotta be shitting me." His green-eyed brother cackled obnoxiously. Brick had momentarily forgotten about his crazy ass brother, who was lounging in one of the black leather office chairs across from him with his pristine white sneakers propped on the glass coffee table.

Brick's nostrils flared. His blood pressure could only handle one of them at a time, and the redhead before him obviously needed his attention first.

"Butch. Get the fuck out."

Butch shook his head as he slowly pushed himself out of the comfy chair. His placed his arm above Blossom's head to hold the door open as she stepped farther inside. She looked up at him in surprise, with a hint of cynicism, before muttering a polite thank you.

"Good luck, bro." Butch winked and slammed the door.

The silence that ensued afterwards was...deafening. Just the feeling of her presence made Brick's mind swim with anger. It's been a hell of a long time, long enough for both of them to get over what little quarrels they had as kids. Why was he so mad? Maybe it was because she was infiltrating his personal space. Maybe it was because she was inherently good and he was inherently evil.

Or maybe it was because she was just standing there in front of his desk like a fucking idiot.

"Are you going to sit down or stand there like an idiot?"

She sat with her eyes watching him wearily. Brick was put off. He may not have seen Blossom in a while, but he hadn't forgotten about the mouth she had. On a bad day, she was just as scathing as her demon of a sister. Was this bitch afraid of him? As if he was going to do anything to her in his own damn office building.

"Resume?" He asked. She stared at him blankly. Fucking Hell.

"Blossom." Her name was poison on his tongue. He noticed the jolt in her body as he spoke.

"Yes, sorry." She pulled a packet from her pristine folder and gingerly placed it on his desk. As he skimmed the pages, he caught a few impressive words and credentials. She was almost too qualified to work here. He glanced up at her in suspicion. Blossom could honestly be anywhere she wanted to be, yet she was sitting here in front of him.

The heavens really did hate him.

Brick tossed the pack of paper in the trash.

"Excuse-"

"Why should I hire you?"

Blossom looked at him with furrowed brows. "Well, my resume has all the info-

"Answer the question." He could see frustration developing on her face. He smirked inwardly. 

Blossom took a breath, looked up to the ceiling for a second then opened her mouth to reply. "Because you need someone to fill the position?"

Brick raised an eyebrow, placing his hands on the desk and staring coldly in her pink orbs. This could not be the star student/super-genius he was defeated by, twice, as a young kid. Her cheeks reddened as he continued to stare her down.

"Why should I pick you over any other self-righteous priss who walks in?"

"I mean, I wouldn't consider myself self-righteous-

"Then what are you? Honestly, Utonium, let's just cut to the chase here. You could be at any other company right now. Any other interview. Hell, you could've been across the damn world but you decided to step into my fucking office."

Brick could feel himself getting riled up. He hoped she was, too.

Since he got this job, Brick hadn't been able to let his frustrations out on actual people. Sitting in front of him now was a perfect opportunity for stress relief. Morebuck's publicity team could handle a tiny office altercation, right? Because he was dying to kick her ass.

He felt so out of control, out of character. But then again, the "purpose" of his creation was standing right in front of him, waiting to be destroyed.

He was more than that, though. He was more than this pink-eyed bitch sitting across from him. He spent the last decade or so coming into a man almost deserving of success. Blossom Utonium had no claim on any of the work it took to get where he was now. What fucking nerve she had coming into his place of business, like she was innocent. Brick didn't know what her intentions were but he knew she was up to something suspicious. And so he couldn't just let her out of his sight now. He couldn't let her fuck it all up.

And that, Brick decided, was the whole reason why he was so pissed.

She was still fucking sitting there except now she was uncomfortably twirling a lock of red hair between her index and middle finger. Brick tsked. He leaned back in his chair opening up his jacket. The room had gotten ten times hotter. "If you're just gonna waste my fucking time, you can leave the way you came."

It was like saying the magic words. She broke.

It started with a slow shake of her head and a small chuckle. "No, hell no. You know what?" Blossom took a deep inhale and Brick braced himself for a blizzard.

"I have worked my academic ass off for longer than I should have. I graduated at the top of class in multiple programs. My work in volunteering and community outreach could give Mother Theresa a run for her money. Not to mention the amount of times my sisters and I risked our lives to save this city from every sorry excuse of a monster that attacks. If you cannot see my untouchable skills in teamwork, dedication, and all the other bullshit your company claims to need for an entry-level position, then you can kiss my ass, Brick, because you and I both know that I am the greatest you're ever going to get."

The room was on fire. Minus the scorching flames and suffocating smoke, but the room was probably twelve hundred degrees. Either the ice queen in front of him was immune to high temperature—beach trips must be fun—or it was all just him. Her hands were slammed on his desk, her magenta eyes darker and clearer with anger, her nostrils flared-quite like his actually-and if he didn't already know she had ice powers, Brick would've thought flames were gonna come out of her mouth at any moment.

So, it was a combination of the fact that Blossom turned out to be one hell of an interesting character after all these years and that her generous cleavage was now a foot away from his face but Brick hired her. On the spot.

"I'm gonna be honest here, you're not a good fit for the secretary position. However, I would like to offer you a job as my security guard."

She raised an eyebrow, her angry stance relaxing slightly. "You want me to be your bodyguard?"

"Yes. Miss Utionium. I'm trying to hire you to my personal security team. The pay is great, I promise." He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair nonchalantly.

"You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. Why do you need me?"

It would be easier to keep an eye on her this way. Brick shrugged. "The publicity team thinks it would be better for my image that I refrain from defending myself. Plus, having a female bodyguard is a plus for our social popularity."

Blossom stood for a moment, eyes calculating. This was exactly why she couldn't be his secretary. Too damn smart. She finally cleared her throat

"Well, then I accept your offer...Mr. Jojo—"

"Brick." The formalities were getting annoying.

"Brick." She pushed the words between her lips. "And it will be a pleasure to work with you." Her right hand stuck out to shake his.

He didn't want to fucking touch her...but he also...did. It was strange. Part of him was finding enjoyment in the rage brought on by her presence. The other part—the sane part, might he add—wanted to wring her neck and throw her out of the glass window behind him.

Brick stood to give her hand a firm shake.

"Just try not to get me killed."

—-

"What the hell's wrong with you? You're gonna get us killed." Charon growled down to the short, black woman standing next to him. It was mid-day and the streets in front of the cafe they stood by were packed. Rush hour traffic was at its peak. Jia's host skin emitted a faint white glow, imperceptible to the human eye but blatant to Charon's black, soulless ones.

The petite host looked down at her arms and body in horror. "I-I don't know. The last time this happened was during The Chosen Incident." Jia, who was currently possessing the humans body replied. She looked up to Charon's host, a tall man with short-cut ginger hair and green eyes. She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Why do you look so much like one of your vices?"

Charon shrugged. "It's not like I got to choose. That doesn't matter right now. The important thing is we're stuck in this crowded fucking area and you're about to let every fucking citizen of this damned city see your spirit form. Get a hold of yourself or else we're done for. I'm not ready to face the wrath of my maker today." Charon glared into Jia's current host eyes.

In an instant, they rolled to the back of her head and all Charon could see were her whites. The host fell to the ground. An audible gasp emitted from the people around them and a few people began to advance.

"Shit." Charon muttered under his breath. "Take a step back ladies and gentleman. She's fine. She's okay. She gets like when there are too many people. More of a cat lady, this one." He chuckled with a charismatic smile to ease people's curiosity.

"Come on, dear. Can ya stand up?" Charon threw her arm over his shoulder as her eyelids fluttered open.

"Thank you all for your concern." He yelled back as he pulled her along, away from the cafe they were near and down the street.

Once they escaped the line of sight of the nosy people, Charon turned into a nearby alleyway and leaned Jia against a wall. He looked around. City people never really paid attention to what wasn't directly affecting them.

"Get a hold of yourself, Jia."

"I'm getting weak. Something is happening."

Charon let out an exasperated grunt. "Well, what are we gonna do? We can't have you exposing yourself in the middle of the city."

"We need to find somewhere to hide." She whispered as she struggled to keep her eyes open and her glowing skin under control.

"Yeah, like a motel or something. Damn it, we're gonna need an Uber." Charon rubbed the stubble on his host chin.

"What is that?" Jia breathed, the white glow on her body beginning to illuminate at a dangerous level.

"See, this is why I'm better at my job than you. You don't know shit about the Chosen's culture. Let's go."

Boomer shoved his hands into his pockets and dipped his chin against his chest to shield his face from the chilling wind. The city was dark save for a couple of streetlights that cast a dim yellow onto the dilapidated streets. Other than the occasional pop of gunshots, the night was quiet and peaceful. A few lonely dark figures of men with nothing to lose were scattered among the area.

Anyone with a sane mind and a normal chemical makeup would never step foot in this part of town.

Boomer had neither and that somehow made him invincible. At least, that what his friends called him. They didn't know anything, though. No one was truly invincible.

Boomer spit out a wad of saliva and grimaced. Super-being or not, everyone is capable of being broken.

His eyes followed the wall and he slowed his pace as if to look for something. He soon came upon an obviously abandoned building. At the corner of said building, a huge chunk of wall was missing, creating a hole that Boomer's football-player figure barely slid through. His eyes caught two dark figures huddled together in a corner.

"Janice? Philly?" Boomer called out to the huddled frames.

"Aye, Blue Man. That you?" In the dark, it was difficult to see movement but the melodic voice of his recently made friend was unmistakable. He strode confidently over to the figures and plopped down in front of them, pulling out his phone to use as a light source.

"When are you gonna get me one of those?" The young man known to Boomer as "Philly" said as he separated from Janice.

"Screw the phone. Why don't you bring us some heat?" Janice said, her long black dreads jostling over her face as she yanked the grey blanket from Philly's thin, pale arms. Boomer watched Philly and Janice fight over the thin, grey blanket they had been hunched under. They reminded Boomer of two purposeless cartoon characters bantering for comic relief.

"Sorry, guys," Boomer shrugged. "I would bring my brother if he wasn't the definition of an asshole." And if he didn't hate said asshole's guts.

"Man, I don't care if he's Donald Trump's best friend. He's hot...in more ways than one."

"Aren't you gay?" Philly asked as he crossed his arms against the cold.

Janice rolled her caramel-colored irises. "Philly, for the last time, you idiot, I like girls and boys."

Boomer fidgeted uncomfortably as the two bickered over Janice's sexuality. His gaze flicked towards his phone a couple times. The screen was void of any new messages. Boomer gave a small grunt and frowned.

He had no reason to be here other than the fact that the two were some of the only people in his life he didn't hate entirely. Janice's quick wit and Philly's innocence despite circumstance created a small distraction from his shitty world. At this point, it seems life was about to get a whole lot shittier.

"What's wrong, Boomer?" Janice's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Yeah, you look kinda...blue." Philly said. Boomer could hear them struggling to curb their chuckles at yet another lame joke about his favorite color. He sighed.

"My brother- the less douchey one-was supposed to hook me up with his dope boy, but he hasn't talked to me at all."

"Hey, hey. That's a big deal. If you don't get a score, that scary dude is gonna kick your ass." Philly said with his sunken blue eyes, wide open and bloodshot, gazing right into Boomer's own. Boomer averted his eyes quickly.

"That Scary Dude" is a guy named Rat who owns a pawn shop that Boomer stole from once. It wasn't anything serious. Just some stupid heirlooms from the Victorian era or something. But this Rat dude had a pride problem. The fact that he was missing his left eye didn't help his business or his social life. It was only Boomer's luck that Rat was a client of Butch and promised not to shoot him dead if Boomer got him discounted dope.

"Who, Rat?" Janice tsked. "Screw him. What about Butch? His own bodyguards look like they're being protected by him."

"When have you seen my brother?" Boomer looked towards Janice. It was pretty rare for Butch to be caught in daylight. The crazy bastard didn't have much of a choice. The list of warrants for his arrest could circle the block.

"One night after you left, I followed you to his club and snuck in." Janice said without an ounce of fear in her voice. "He was just as sexy as I thought he would be." She bit her full bottom lip as her eyes fluttered closed and Boomer rolled his.

"Geez, start a fanclub already, ya freak." Philly muttered. Janice punched his arm. Another bickering session between the two began and Boomer's eyes slid over to the crack in the wall he had entered through. Flashes of light from the broken streetlights crackled through and Boomer took a breath. It was time to go.

"Well, it was cool hanging with you guys, but I gotta leave."

"What are you gonna do about the dope? You know, I could hook you up with my plug."

Boomer shrugged. He knew telling her that her dealer probably worked for Butch wouldn't be good for either of them. "I'll figure something out."

"He's got the corner of 10th street if you need him." Janice called out as Boomer walked away.

"Do you think he's hot, too?" Boomer heard Philly ask after a pause.

"Of course! Philly, I'm bi, not blind."

Boomer shook his head as he stepped out into the darkness of the real world. His attractiveness had gotten him in and out of all kinds of trouble. Who knew toilet water could create such great looks?

Sometimes, he wished he could wear a mask. It would solve more than a few problems in his life. He shoved his fists back in his pants pocket and pushed off his toes, shooting into the air as fast as he could. Sometimes flying as fast as he could kept the past from coming back into his mind.

This was not one of those times.

They were just kids. Girls. No older than he. Only a couple this time. Boomer thanked God.

"But also screw him for putting me here." Boomer thought. Tears streamed from the girls' eyes and their nostrils wet with snot as their arms were wrenched behind them.

"Now ladies, I tried to asking you politely to join me," A sweet voice that sounded like danger and malevolence spoke just behind Boomer's left ear. He winced as manicured black nails landed softly on his shoulder.

"Let my precious boy persuade you a little more."

Boomer stared angrily at the dirty concrete the girls kneeled on. Their knees were bloody and bruised from being manhandled by the bitch's henchman. He was beginning to really hate alleyways. He was always getting into trouble in these damn things. He could just hear Butch's mouth telling him to stay out of trouble. Well, it was pretty fucking hard when your only home is the streets.

"Go ahead, Boomer. Tell these ladies what a great opportunity this is." Boomer imagined her red stained lips forming his name and he almost threw up. He didn't want to do this. He never wanted to do it. But as Sedusa's nails dug deeper into his shoulder, Boomer knew he had no choice. So, he reluctantly lifted his blue eyes and glared right into the brown ones of the girl sniveling across from him.

"P-p-please." The girl begged. He could practically hear their hearts beating wildly in their chests.

"I-you have to come with us...I..w-want you to come with us." He watched their resolve slip from their eyes as the words left his mouth. Witnessing someone's free will being stripped away. The panic that set in as their pupils dilated. The trembling of their limbs as they lose their control over them. The final gasp of air they'll remember taking that day. It was like watching someone die.

The crescendo of blaring car horns from late night traffic nudged Boomer out of his memory. A wave of bittersweet nostalgia floated over him. Back then, he still had a little humanity left in him. Back then, the tearful eyes and trembling hands actually did something to him. Now, he was lucky to feel an ounce of remorse for ruining someone's life.

Boomer finally locked onto his destination and let his feet ungracefully meet with the concrete sidewalk. The corner of 10th and 13th street was located close enough to midtown to have working street lights but just far enough to attract dealers and addicts.

At this particular corner stood a humble-looking gym that Boomer faintly remembers standing by as he waited for Butch when they were kids. The yellow-tinted overhead lights from indoors clashed with the bright fluorescent street lights in front. A dark shadow stood in the alley between the gym and the irrelevant building next to it.

Boomer took a wild guess that this was Janice's "plug".

He approached the shadowed figure, who turned out to be a male, a kid probably no older than sixteen. Geez, they were getting younger and younger. Although, Boomer doubted anyone could beat Butch's record. Bastard was a gangbanger at ten.

"Hey, man." Boomer greeted the boy with a nod of his head.

"Who the fuck are you?" The teenager asked with a sneer, his hand freezing by his left hip. Boomer wondered if the kid's aim was any good.

"I'm just a new client. Got anything for me?" Boomer asked, knowing full well how things worked around here. You didn't just walk up on someone. They contacted you and told you where to meet up. You bring the money and keep your mouth shut.

The kid looked at Boomer as if he had grown two heads. Boomer wasn't surprised. At this moment, Boomer could have looked the kid dead in his eyes, said the magic words, and he would have what he needed.

But Boomer had promised himself a long time ago that he would never do that again, unless absolutely necessary. He promised himself he wouldn't become an asshole like a certain redhead he knew.

Plus his big brother didn't run these streets for nothing. For all the trouble he's been through, Boomer had damned well better get some benefit from that.

"Look, the guy you work for probably works for my brother. Which means he also works for me. Lucky for you, I'm the nice one of the two of us. All I want is a couple ounces of whatever you got and I'll be on my way."

"How much you got?" The kid asked. Boomer lifted his eyes, careful not to make eye contact, while shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Let's see...I got a few dimes, a gum wrapper, and...some lint." Boomer held his palm out to the kid. It was really all he had. Boomer hadn't had a chance to pawn his latest "collections".

Apparently, the boy wasn't amused. Boomer found himself staring down the gun barrel of a .45 caliber. He raised his hands in surrender, despite the fact that the hunk of steel wasn't that much of a threat.

"I look like a dumbass to you? Get the fuck outta here before I bust a cap in your ass."

"Look bro, we can work this out." Boomer said standing his ground. The kid stepped closer, into the bright streetlight where the steel of the gun shone brightly. Some dumb lady started screaming from across the street and all hell broke loose.

The kid must have gotten spooked and started shooting rounds. Boomer felt the metal bullets bouncing from his body and heard the shattering of glass soon after. But he had a mission. He used his enhanced speed to run quickly behind the kid, who was embarrassingly shooting with his eyes closed, shoved his hands in and out of the kids pockets, grabbing everything that was in them.

Boomer shot off into the night sky once again, leaving the sounds of screams, shattered glass and shots behind him. Police sirens would most likely be the next sound to join the symphony and Boomer just didn't have time for that.

If Boomer had stuck around for a few seconds longer, he would have seen a frantic Buttercup bursting through the shattered glass of the front door. But he didn't.

The shooter was gone. There was no one to hold accountable for damaging Victor's property. No one to take the blame for the emotional trauma the seven year old child inside was bound to experience.

And there was no one to blame for the bullet in the Russian gym owners body.

The walls of the building vibrated with the deep bass of the music. Skimpy-dressed girls stalked the stage as dollar bills flew around them. Above the club floor, was the VIP section where Butch sat with his bodyguards flanking his sides. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and rubbed his hands sensuously over the thighs of the girl sitting on top of his lap. Her green streaked hair waved in his face and her spicy smell and the smell of sex in the dimly light building mixed and wafted into his nose.

A man dressed in all black cleared his throat. "Boss."

"What?" Butch asked, still focused on the girl.

"There's a package in the back waiting for you."

"Who's it from?"

The man pressed a finger to his ear and was quiet for a second. "Manny."

Butch sighed and patted the woman's legs. "Alright, sweet cheeks, time to get the fuck up." The woman got up and flipped her hair. Butch stuffed a bill in her costume then left for the back door with his bodyguards in tow.

It was pitch black in the alley save for a puke yellow light on the side of the building. The door slammed behind Butch and the man in the alley turned.

"Are you Butch?" The man said, wringing his hands and watching his sides.

"I'm whoever you came to fucking see." Butch said, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting it.

"Okay, but Manny said this stuff needs to get to a guy named Butch."

Butch lifted an eyebrow and stared the shorter man down. "You callin' me a fraud?" The man's eyes widened and he shook his head and waved his hands.

"N-no. No, this is just a very important shipment and Manny trusted me with this-

"Listen, kid, let me tell ya how this thing fucking works" Butch threw an arm around the man's neck, "How old are you?"

"N-nineteen." He stammered. Butch cackled.

"Oh, Manny, you piece of shit. Sent me a kid to do the dirty work. Alright, kid, look. This is what happens. I come out here, on my own precious time to pick up my shit from Manny. Some dude, who doesn't say two fucking words, opens the truck, takes my money and goes wherever the fuck he came from. But see, you wasted my time, asking me these questions and shit. These are time-sensitive products, got me?"

The kid nodded. Butch tsked and looked to his guards.

"Now, you seem like a nice guy, but someone's gotta be the messenger. If I let Manny pull this shit all the time, who knows what else the bastard'll do. Next thing I know he's sending me bad shit. That's bad rep. That's bad business." Butch pointed his cigar at the kids face, the smoke waving in front of him.

Butch turned to his guards. "Alright, boys. Let's teach our new friend here about business." He smirked at the young kid's nervous face.

A phone buzzed loudly, killing the mood. Butch twisted his lips in annoyance. The ringing continued.

"Who's fuckin' phone is that?" He looked at the kid. He shrugged. Butch was about to ask again before he looked down at his blinking pocket.

"Oh, shit. It's me. Yo?" He answered.

"Butch, get over here."

"I'm kinda in the middle of something important, Brickhead." He popped the cigar in his mouth and pulled out a wad of bills.

"Well, now you're on your way here. Hurry the fuck up." And with a click, Brick was gone.

"Dick." Butch muttered. He handed the wad of bills to the kid.

"Here." Butch watched the kid count the money with shaking hands and stuff it in his pocket. Then he sent a left hook to the kid's cheek.

"Give that to Manny for me, will ya?" Butch turned to the guards. "Wrap up the package and take it home. I got a meeting with the big man in red."

"I love Santa." The kid mumbled disoriented from the ground.

Brick was the complete opposite of a jolly old man when Butch walked into his penthouse. He stood in a red longsleeve and black sweats with his arms folded over his chest. His thick ginger eyebrows were furrowed and his blood red orbs bore seriously into Butch's own.

"If I had known I would have to see your face twice today, I would've had more to drink." Butch smirked, plopping down on the chocolate leather couch and placing his feet up on the dark wood coffee table.

Brick zapped his feet with lazers. Butch yelped.

"There was a shootout on the corner of 10th about half an hour ago."

Butch sat up. "With who?"

"Isn't that block covered by you?" Brick raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but nothin' happens over there. That block's dead. I made sure of it." Butch was up now, pacing back and forth running his fingers through his midnight black hair.

"Well, something happened Butch and you need to get over there and make sure our shit is gone before the cops come snooping around."

"I can't fucking do that with a bounty on my head, bro. You gonna get the cops off me or what?" He snarled at his brother ignoring the way the room suddenly got hotter.

Brick started texting on his phone. He stared at the screen for a moment before licking his lips. "It's done. Now go get my stuff."

Butch didn't bother correcting Brick on whose "stuff" was actually on the line. He was too busy worried about what exactly went down on the corner of 10th.

He hadn't gone there as much as he should have in the last couple of months.

He would soon come to regret that.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, how was it? Be honest and leave a review. I love it when you guys tell me what you think is happening or what you like/dislike. Chapter three is coming up soon and if you're missing our beloved Buttercup, you shall see her once again. Till next time :)**


	3. I'm Not Going Anywhere

**A/N: Chapter three! I'm really trying my best here guys. I love writing so much, but I also suck at being comfortable with a final product. I hope you enjoy this chapter and get a lot of feelings. I think I went in on the angst this time...i love angst.  
**

* * *

Victor Medved relocated from the chilly tundra of Russia to the overpopulated streets of Townsville in the summer of 2001. It was hot. There were too many people. Victor really just wanted to go home.

But he could not be selfish. He was not here for himself, but his family. Besides, a few years is all it would take to make enough money to support a wife and a couple of children.

It took less than a few years for Victor to establish himself as a personal boxing trainer, acquire a client base of sorry Americans who couldn't dodge a kick to the face in slow motion, and then to finally be acquainted with a little boy with green eyes and lethal hands.

Every evening, after Victor's last clients had left, the little boy would stalk in, some days beaming with masochistic joy, other days twitching and sneering with primal anger…and other more guarded emotions. The one day he destroyed a punching bag, Victor decided to jump in.

The rest is history, and Victor's been here ever since.

The kid came and went, but that did nothing to diminish the fondness Victor grew for him.

Especially as the boy, now grown into a supposedly dangerous man, currently sat across from Victor in one of the cold, plastic blue hospital chairs. The young man's leg bounced in anxiety as he clasped his hands in front of his mouth, set in a deep frown. His green irises were focused as they glared out at the starless night sky.

The only sound in the room was the monitor beeping in a calm signal of life.

"Who did this to you?" His husky voice disturbed the room.

Victor took in a painful deep breath. "If I knew, I would not be the only one in the hospital." His voice was soft and slightly teasing, despite the circumstances.

The chair creaked with Butch's weight as he leaned back, his left hand clutching the arm rest until it cracked under the pressure of his hold. "I should've been there. Fuck, I should've-"

"-Oi, _Nureyev."_

Victor watched Butch shut his eyes and shake his head in annoyance. "I told you to stop calling me that, Vic."

"Just because you learned to stop dancing around the punching bag does not mean you stopped being dramatic bastard." Victor chuckled. The day little Butch came to Victor, upset because he finally Googled what a "Nureyev" was, the Russian man couldn't hold his laughter.

It was bittersweet, Victor felt as he watched Butch let a chuckle slip through. As his pupil, Butch was one of the most serious little boys he had ever met. His focus was unwavering and he had an intelligent streak that came as a surprise every time. Away from the punching bag, however, Butch was the mischievous, rambunctious, always-grabbing- _something_ little boy he should've been.

Victor knew a piece of his strong heart was being devoted to this kid with forest green eyes, even when he grew older and his visits grew shorter.

"Listen to me, Butch." Victor paused to gather his words. "I need you to do some things for me if I die-"

'-Nah, Vic. You're not dying, okay-"

"-Shut it, zadrota. I am trying to tell you something important."

Butch grunted, but kept his mouth shut.

"You will go to my desk and get the brown envelope from the drawer. Put it in the mail." Victor licked his lips and then looked the young man dead in his eyes. "Then, you will run my business for me."

"The hell, Victor?! I'm not doing that."

"And why not?"

"First of all, I'm fresh off the most wanted list." Butch hissed. "I can't own a damn LLC-"

"-Calm down, Butchie. My business is barely a thing. I am just passing it down. And if you don't take it, I will haunt you forever from my grave."

"Shut it, Victor."

"Also, when you take over, you must keep my group class instructor. You are not allowed to fire her." He said with a serious look.

"I'll do what I want. And I'm not taking over." Butch finished quickly.

"You won't like me as an angry ghost, little Nureyev." Victor warned.

"I already don't like you."

"Visiting hours are ending." The stoic tone of the nurse interrupted what was left of the conversation between the two men.

"Can't you see we're talking?" Butch glared at the woman, not budging from his chair.

"He is leaving. Thank you, dear." Victor spoke up kindly. The nurse rolled her eyes and stepped out. Butch grunted and turned his head to the side stubbornly.

"You're going to get nowhere with that attitude. You think people want to be friends with ugly bastards like you?"

"On your fuckin deathbed, you're still an asshole." Butch smirked and stood. "Stay alive for me, will ya?"

"Who else will kick your ass when you're being a drama queen?"

Butch shook his head with a snort but finally left, shouldering past the nurse who was ready to give him another warning. Butch wasn't going anywhere, though. His long legs carried him to the waiting room. He plopped down into another uncomfortable chair, pulling a hand down the length of his face and slouching back.

The room was deserted. It was a shame. Butch couldn't count how many other kids from the streets would hang around outside the gym, and inside on hot summer days. Victor would shout at them when they got rowdy, but he loved the activity.

And the way his eyes sparkled when he focused on teaching Butch, the ruff could never forget.

That was back in the day. Those kids, including Butch, had grown up and either fought their way out of the streets or farther in, leaving the gym to be a nostalgic reminder of when things were just a tiny bit simpler.

This time he wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

As for the green eyed girl-or woman-she had a little responsibility to take care of before she could return to the hospital.

The young boy beside her never said a word.

Not when glass shattered as bullets ricocheted through the windows and he was snatched into Buttercup's arms, shielded from the brunt of the damage. Not when she ordered him to grab a towel or literally anything to stop the blood pouring out of the gym owner's head. Not when Buttercup told him to climb on her back as she picked Victor up and flew across the night sky.

So it was no surprise to Buttercup when he had nothing to say as she walked them down the streets of his neighborhood. What could she expect the kid to say after watching a man bleed out a few feet in front of him? Hell, she had nothing to say.

One minute, Buttercup was offering Carlos a sip of her infamous homemade smoothies, as Victor was trying to contact Carlos's mother.

The next, her skin and clothes were smeared with wet blood. So much blood.

"Okay, kid. Lead the way." Buttercup exhaled and tore her eyes away from her bloody hands as they approached the rundown apartment building he apparently lived in. Carlos led her up a few flights of stairs, down a dim hallway with peeling wallpaper, and to one of the many mud colored doors. His hand reached into his little backpack for a key when Buttercup stopped him.

The door was slightly ajar. A sliver of light shone out of the crack. People don't leave their doors open in neighborhoods like this. She would know.

Buttercup pushed Carlos behind her, pressing the pads of her fingers lightly against the door. The duo slowly stepped inside. Buttercup looked around suspiciously as they walked farther in, tuning into her enhanced hearing.

 _POP!_

Buttercup yanked Carlos into a nearby coat closet, swiftly pulling the door closed and crouching down. The gunshot echoed against her eardrums. Through the slits in the wooden door, Buttercup could make out a figure standing in the frame of the bedroom door.

A tall male, built like a lamp post with green skin and greasy black hair, held a silver gun in his hand. She narrowed her eyes, feeling them heat up in anger, but refrained from lasering the fuck out of the familiar douchebag.

Carlos had seen enough bloodshed tonight.

She looked down from the direction the gun was pointing and had to cover her mouth from letting our curses.

At Ace's feet, lie a body, silent and unmoving. The brown hair in a ponytail was all Buttercup needed to see to deduce that the body lying in a pool of blood was probably Carlos's mother. Damn, this kid couldn't catch a break.

"Mamá?" Buttercup whipped her head to look at Carlos in surprise. It was the first word she had ever come from his mouth.

The door to their hiding spot swung open. The shock wore off in seconds and Buttercup was met with the barrel of the gun. She moved to put her hand over his Carlos's eyes.

"Well, well, would ya look at what the cat dragged in?" Ace smirked down at the duo. "Last time I saw ya, Butters, you were too young to be having babies. I don't believe this kid belongs to you." His lifted his sunglasses to peer his yellow bloodshot eyes at Carlos.

"Don't fuck with me, Ace. You know how it always ends." Buttercup growled, still holding her hand to Carlos's eyes.

"Relax, relax. I'm not gonna try to fight you Butters. I know better. I just want the kid." He said casually, as if he was asking Buttercup trade phone numbers or something. "Just hand him over and we'll be on our way." He held out his hand.

Buttercup slowly stood, pulling Carlos close to her. She looked down at the boy. His little brown eyes, now uncovered, were glued to a place behind Ace, where his mother lay lifeless. Buttercup felt a wave of protectiveness.

"He stays with me." She pushed him behind her.

"Aw, come on, Buttercup." Ace groaned, "Don't make this harder than it has to be." He played with the safety on the gun, which had no effect on Buttercup, but that wasn't what she was worried about.

She had two options:

1) Kill Ace now and traumatize Carlos even more than he probably was.

2) Give Carlos up to Ace, not knowing whether the bastard needed him dead or alive, and try to rescue the boy later.

Neither of those sounded good, but she only had a few seconds before she figured Ace would do something crazy.

"How about this? You let me and Carlos go with a head start. Like a game of hide and seek or whatever. If you find us, I'll...hand him over." Buttercup had no plans to ever let Carlos out of her sight but Ace loved a fucking chase, so she was giving it to him.

Buttercup watched in suspense as the sleazy man thought for a moment. Then, with a smirk, he let the gun drop to his side. "Okay, I'll play. Ya get fifteen minutes. But try anything puff, and its over. For both of yous."

Her lime colored eyes glared purposefully into his shaded ones as she backed out of the apartment. Where Ace got this sudden confidence boost from, Buttercup did not know. She badly wanted to remind him of all the times she beat his ass as a mere elementary schooler. Doesn't he fucking know what she could do to him now?

Carlos began pushing against her back, bringing her to the present and reminding her of why she was being so cautious.

"Mama? Mama!"

"Come on, Carlos, we have to go." She hissed as Ace's laughter echoed hauntingly in the dim hallway.

"Clock's ticking, puff."

"N-no! Mama! Mama!" Tears streamed down the little boy's face. His little hands tried to squeeze past her. His face contorted and his mouth formed a painful grimace as Buttercup picked him up in a tight embrace. She shut her eyes against his pleading screams, wishing she could shut her ears off, too.

It took Buttercup ten minutes to get to her own rundown apartment. It could have taken less, but flying with a child on your back required some consideration of g-force.

Buttercup wished she had flown faster.

Her apartment complex, which was currently up in flames was surrounded by firefighters, ambulances, and various characters from the neighborhood. Buttercup had never seen so many state officials in this area before. It wasn't the type of neighborhood where cops loved to hang out or where ambulances rushed to be.

But then again, an entire building was burning down, so it's not like they could just ignore that.

"Buttercup?! Look at my beautiful brownstone! What happened?" Her short, stocky landlord flailed his hairy arms as he shouted.

"It's on fire." The flames reflected off of Buttercup's green orbs. There wasn't much of value in her ratty apartment. She wouldn't miss anything besides a picture of her and her sisters, and her fucking expensive blender.

"O-obviously! I thought having a damn Powerpuff in my building would keep these things from happening to me. Where the hell were you?"

That question hit Buttercup hard. She couldn't forget that in everyone else's eyes, she was still a Powerpuff. Still a savior they could all fall back on. No matter what else she achieved or how useful she presented herself to be in every other aspect of life, people only saw her as the hero who used to punch monsters in the face.

"I'm sorry." She said, with empty eyes still gazing up at the burning building. To all those people, she was currently failing.

"I'm sorry." She turned her head, this apology aimed at the little boy on her back. There weren't many other places to go, and time was running out.

She couldn't fail him, too.

She took off into the night sky anyways, ignoring the shouts from her exasperated landlord, hoping the fresh air would bring fresh ideas. Going to either of her sisters' places was too predictable. If Ace could somehow set her building on fire in less than ten minutes, who knew what kind of shit he would pull.

The gym was simply not an option. Not while she was still trying to erase the image of her employer almost dying in her arms. So, Buttercup settled on the hospital where she could wait for Victor's recovery and maybe get in a nap without worrying about criminals trying to snatch her new companion up.

* * *

"What the fuck are you doing here?" A raspy, feminine voice jolted Butch awake before he could doze off. His eyes flicked quickly up to the source, the familiarity striking a chord within him.

"I could ask you the same fucking thing." The glare between him and Buttercup could have leveled the room. Her presence somehow irritated him down to his bones. Sure, it had been more than a decade since their last fight, but those lime green eyes said nothing but "fight me".

And he planned on it. Butch rose to his feet, ready to smash her head against the wall. But she didn't look all that ready to return the favor.

That's when he noticed a mop of dark hair by her hip. Her hand gripped the smaller one a little tighter. The mop of hair tipped back and brown orbs of innocence gazed up into his.

The little boys face, wet with tears still streaming and skin slightly stained with dried blood was faintly familiar to Butch. Never mind the blood and tears, he had seen much worse. It could be the eyes, but Butch saw someone in him.

"When did ya get him?"

He barely finished his question before the sole of a sneaker smacked against the center of his chest. With a grunt, he skid a few feet back.

"I'm not going to ask you again. Why are you here?" Her eyes narrowed as she finally lowered into that fighting stance he remembered.

Everything else about her was strikingly different. Honestly, Butch didn't know who the fuck was standing in front of him.

"First of all, it's none of your fucking business." He replied, giving her a once-over with his eyes.

Her hair had grown from a bob that touched her ears to a thick, shiny black head of hair that reached just past her throat. Her lips were a pale, plump, peach color as they pulled back over her white teeth into a sneer. And that body? The muscle was a given, but Butch sure didn't expect such...curves from the stick of a child he remembered her as.

She looked good. Damn good. That didn't stop him from wanting to maul her, though.

He grunted, dusting at the place where her foot had made impact and preparing himself for the fight.

"Just answer the question, asshole. I asked you first."

"And I was here first so don't act like the room belongs to you, bitch." If it wasn't for that damn child, she would've been halfway to China.

As Butch made the first step to sending her there anyways, the squeaky sound of the nurse's sneakers irritated his ears. Then there were a couple more, squeaking a little faster and little more frantic.

The trio in the waiting room moved their attention down the hall, towards the growing commotion. A group of nurses and a doctor were piling into a room. His room.

Butch could hear the words they were saying but it was all medical jargon he didn't understand. Forgetting about his arch nemesis and the kid, Butch jogged down the hall and quickly denied every disturbing image that popped into his mind.

He had just told Victor to stay alive. For him. The bastard loved to spite people but this? This would be too far. Victor wasn't that big of an asshole.

But in the short time that Butch was fighting to get through the nurses who just would not fucking let him in, the commotion seemed to die out at once.

The steady beeping had been replaced by a long tone. The tone he had heard so much in his life, from friends to enemies to strangers, that went over his head each time. Now it actually meant something.

He stood in the doorway as the nurses pushed past him and the doctor gave him a wary look, but he barely noticed. His eyes were glued to the now lifeless body on the bed.

"You asshole." He muttered, "I told you...I fucking told you..." His fists clench around the rails of the hospital bed as he curses the gym owner for leaving him behind, but there are no tears. And there won't be any. Butch doesn't cry.

At any moment, Butch wanted Victor to just pop his eyes open wide and let out his annoying cackle as he made fun of Butch for even dreaming that someone could take this oldtimer down. It would be a sick joke that Butch would never forgive him for, but hey, at least he would be alive.

"I'm sorry, Buttercup." He faintly heard in the background. That was the breaking point.

It was _his_ friend, _his_ mentor, _his_ biggest supporter that was dead. Maybe it was the fact that Butch couldn't remember the last time he had stepped foot in that gym before tonight and that tore at his guilt. Maybe it was this green-eyed bitch's presence irritating him to the point that it was offensive. Maybe it was the fact that one of the only people Butch felt a deep understanding with was fucking gone.

And that fucking tone from the machine wouldn't let him forget it either, but the next few seconds went by in a blur.

His fist smashed through the glass monitor, silencing the annoyance.

Buttercup's screeching scraped against his eardrums, ignited the fight in him once again. He couldn't focus on a word she was screaming but all the fucking useless medical personnel staring at him in fear, began to back away.

He could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, his broad chest pumping with each frustrated breath and glass shards digging into his palm like weapons.

The next moment, slim arms were flinging around his neck and squeezing. Buttercup was no longer in his view, and the mass group of fuckwads just stood there.

He fought against the warm, curvy body struggling against his back from behind. The precise pressure of a finger or an elbow or something dug into his neck and the lights went out.

* * *

Buttercup sat on the curb outside of the hospital, arms hanging over her legs as a seven year old leaned lazily against her side and a thick-muscled, scowl-faced, beast of man lay unconscious on the concrete next to her. Her future looked as bright as the starless night sky.

She had no house. No car. No job. Add a child and an ex(?)-criminal and Buttercup was just having one hell of a night.

She could easily give up. Just send the kid to child services or something. Butch could stay on the ground. The Professor's house was a flight away and climbing deep into the covers of a bed made for three sounded like a good way to end the night.

Of course, this is Buttercup Utonium. The toughest fighter. The one who never gives up. No one expects her to need a break. No one thought Buttercup would ever need a shoulder to cry on. Hell, even Buttercup couldn't imaging herself in need of anyone else's help.

So, now, here she was. The bubble of self-sufficiency just growing bigger and bigger.

Tonight wasn't the time to let it pop.

It was probably too early for Boomer to be whistling this loud and cheery as he walked down the barely populated streets. Some of the grumpier store owners glared at him as he passed by, popping his bubblegum, and bobbing his head to the music blaring from his earphones.

You would think being happy in this side of town was a crime. Although, Boomer had no room to talk. The only reason he could bare to smile was because he pushed all that shit down into dark corners of his mind and forced himself to look only at life by the second.

And in this second, things were going pretty well. He had enough goodies in his pocket to pawn himself a buttload of money, along with the "special delivery" that was going to clear his name off Rat's kill list. So, in short, he wasn't going to get jumped by a biker gang or something and he definitely wasn't gonna go hungry.

Popping bubblegum and whistling cheerful tunes were definitely appropriate.

Boomer approached the storefront and pushed his hand against the glass door. It didn't budge. Boomer peered through the glass into the single dark room, noticing the empty counter. Nothing else was out of order, so it's not like the place was robbed. The pawn shop should have been open.

"Git! Git ya stupid mutt! Dammit!"

Boomer heard barking and struggled grunts from the corner. He walked a few paces before standing in front of a homeless man struggling to yank his rags from a playful dog.

Boomer fucking loved dogs. Without a second thought, Boomer curled his lips and whistled for the pitbull's attention.

"Come here, boy!" The dog temporarily forgot about the homeless man it was harassing and whipped its snout to face the blonde.

Boomer grinned as the dog let out a happy bark before galloping into his arms. The dog smelled of cigarette smoke and old carpet. Rat's smell. Obviously, it was Rat's dog. He remembered hearing something barking during his last visit.

"Hey," Boomer looked up at the homeless man who was grumbling curses under his breath and righting himself, "Do you know where Rat is?"

"You mean the bastard that owns this shitty store? He dead." The man announced.

"He what?" Boomer paused.

"You got cotton in yo ears, boy. He's done for. Found his body layin' right over there." The man pointed a bony finger at the alley. Boomer squinted his eyes, making out the shape of a body lying face up and unmoving. Boomer didn't need to see anymore. The protruding potbelly barely covered by a black shirt with huge bleach stains was enough to confirm that the deady body was Rat.

"Yeh, I found him early this morning." The homeless man rambled on about the details of his morning.

Boomer gazed at the body for a few seconds longer. No Rat means no debt. No debt means Boomer's "special package" was his for experimentation.

The blonde could've done a happy dance. He wasn't completely heartless, though. He would wait until he wasn't in the presence of a dead man.

Shit, he was gonna get so fucking high.

"Anyways, I saw he wasn't breathing and decided to check out his store. Y'know...just to make sure the killer didn't steal nothin'. Then that damn mutt came running out of nowhere and started jumpin' all over me!"

Boomer's attention snapped back to the pitbull, ruffling its grey, floppy ears. "He's a good boy, though. He won't bite, probably. Isn't that right, boy?"

"Well, then you take him. Before _someone_ shoots that thing." The man muttered.

"You think I should?" Boomer said, quickly wrapping his arms around the full sized dog and hoisting it up by his chest. It's blue eyes blinked innocently as they gazed into Boomer's own. Who knew a such a grotesque man could own such a cute dog?

"Sure, sure, I think you'll take great care of it." The homeless man said as he tried jimmying the window on the side of the pawn shop. A big smile spread over Boomer's face as the dog's pink tongue slid over his cheek.

"Yeah, yeah, I sure will. Thanks!" Boomer shouted over his shoulder. This had to be the best fucking day of his life. He started to walk away before he paused in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Well, what the heck do we do now?" Boomer whispered to himself.

The dog barked.

"You're right." Boomer glanced at it, "We should probably take you to a vet or something, right? That's what dog owners do." He used one hand to reach into his pocket for his phone and google the nearest vet office.

"I'm gonna take you to the best vet in town."

And that's how Boomer ended up standing in the veterinary office on the north side of Townsville, still clutching the pitbull to his chest, but now locking eyes with his blonde-haired, blue-eyed counterpart.

"Bubbles." He greeted.

"Boomer."

The air was pretty awkward, at least to Boomer. The last time they spoke, they weren't really speaking. Just taking turns flinging each other across town. It was kinda fun for him, but she probably didn't feel the same way.

"I got a dog."

"I...see that."

"...not really sure what to do now, so..."

"Well, first, you should probably put her down."

Her? "It's a girl?"

Bubbles nodded slowly. "Yes, Boomer, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't like having all her junk out for the world to figure that out, too."

"Right." Boomer answered slowly, letting the pitbull rest her four paws on the ground. With the ground firmly under her paws, the dog didn't hesitate to run behind the counter and show just how excited she was to meet someone new.

"Shit!" Boomer watched as his dog pawed at Bubbles chest, licking her chin with a playful ferocity. Bubbles was in a fit of giggles as she held the dogs paws away from her official-looking white lab coat. The room seemed to brighten considerably with Bubble's smile, and Boomer wanted to appreciate it. He really did.

But he also wasn't used to seeing such pure joy. A small part of him burned with a predatory desire as he waited for her eyes to glance into his. Just for a second. Just to see what it would be like to watch that joy drain from its source.

"Boomer, I can't really do a check up if she doesn't calm down." Her eyes, filled with merriment, glanced to his briefly. That's when he snapped out of it, cursing to himself.

"Come here, boy! Er, girl!" He shook his head, trying to lose the thoughts he had sworn he would never let return. They were coming at him in freaking waves, though.

"S-sorry...Bubbles." Boomer muttered, rubbing the top of the pitbull's head absentmindedly.

"It's okay. I've seen my fair share of rambunctious animals. Including you and your brothers." She joked.

Boomer's eyes flitted to her face. She was smirking slightly, typing something on the office computer.

He scoffed. "And all this time, the world thought they were getting saved by sweet little Bubbles."

"Didn't ya know? I'm hardcore." She whispered playfully, giving him a mischievous look he thought belonged to her hot-headed sister.

They locked eyes once again and the amount of divinity that existed in those blue orbs was almost overwhelming. Staring in them was like being enthralled in a world of blue clouds and pure emotions. Any other person would have lost to a staring contest against Boomer, but not Bubbles. No.

Standing at the counter in a veterinary office with a stray dog by his side and contraband in his pocket, Boomer wasn't just fucking lost in her eyes.

Boomer was in love.

* * *

 **A/N:** ** **Shorter chapter than the last one. I really though I was getting better at writing more! I didn't really want to add more though, because I feel like anymore would just be too fluffy and I like where I left off. But anyways. Thanks for all the reviews! I realllyyyy appreciate them and it makes me so happy. Continue to let me know what you think! It's really interesting reading how you guys feel. Gonna address some real quick-****

 ** **To Ruffle: yeah, man. I get what you're saying. Honestly, just sit back and relax. Don't worry about all the characters, if it gets too confusing. I'm gonna try to do a better job of making sure you guys know who's important and who isn't in the following chapters, and for my next stories ;)****

 ** **to Ash141: If you thought that was messed up, wait until...ahhh just wait. I'm about to put these people through it allll! XD****


	4. Twisted House Hunters

**A/N: Chapter four, wow it's been a few months, huh? Well, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I still don't think its just right, but I'm a perfectionist and the only way to feel better about writing is to keep doing it. Tip of the day, you're welcome :)**

* * *

All Buttercup wanted to do was lay down and take a nap.

Instead, she was standing at the reception desk in a condominium that cost more than her superpowered left arm. Seriously. Buttercup wasn't all that into interior design, but a single glance over the room screamed affluence. The jeweled chandeliers splashed a glimmer over the marble floors that looked like they were chiseled yesterday. The blinding, white couches against the walls of the lobby looked expensively comfortable with suede fabric and no lumps to be found. A wall of water cascaded over the gold backsplash behind the reception desk.

A woman in maybe her late sixties tended the desk with a dumb smile on her face as she gave Buttercup the run-around. Buttercup already thought she was lost or that the navigation system in someone's stupidly extravagant Escalade was broken. The receptionist's adamant denial of the existence of a Butch Jojo didn't help Buttercup's doubts.

"Come on, lady. I just need to know which room belongs to Butch Jojo. This has gotta be his building." She couldn't tell the lady how she knew it was his building, unless Buttercup wanted to be charged with grand theft auto.

But how could someone as dumb and reckless as Butch could ever have a place like this set as his home address?

"As I've said before, there is no tenant named Butch Jojo in this condo. I'm so sorry to disappoint." She kept her wrinkled lips pulled into a tight smile. Buttercup wanted to believe her, but the lady was fucking lying and they both knew it. The keycard that she stole from Butch's pocket proved it.

Buttercup had never made so many bad decisions in one night.

As the raven-haired woman held a challenging gaze with the receptionist, the little fingers enclosed tightly in her hand gave her an idea. It was harmless and if it worked there was no way she could regret it later.

Buttercup softened her gaze and released all of her body weight onto the edge of the desk, giving the receptionist a deeply tired look.

"Listen, I don't know what Butch told you to say, but I-he-really needs to see him," Buttercup said as she lifted Carlos off the ground to rest on her hip.

"This little guy right here? This is his son. And he's been dying to see Butch. It's been years, ma'am. Years." Buttercup whispered for dramatic effect. She kept a sharp eye on the older woman's facial expressions. Carlos's short stature and innocent almond eyes could draw the compassion out of the hardest bitch alive. Buttercup would know.

"Oh, dear. I didn't realize he had a-" Buttercup quickly wiped away her smirk as the woman caught herself. Sucker.

"I know Butch lives here, ma'am. Please, just...help me make this kid's day. Let him see his father." Buttercup spoke lowly, furrowing her eyebrows and sending a piercing gaze straight through the old woman's heart.

"Follow me."

Buttercup let out a relieved exhale as Carlos slid down from her hip. Honestly, the lady could have pressed her for more details and Buttercup's father-son scenario probably would have crumbled to pieces. She took back every complaint she ever had about Bubbles forcing them to play in her dramatic made-up stories as kids.

Her her left hand resumed its strong grasp on Carlos's hand as her right hand squeezed the stolen keys sitting in her pocket.

She could just feel the soft mattress caressing the tension in her shoulders.

If Buttercup had opened her eyes, however, she would have realized the pressure on her shoulder blades was not that of a plush king size bed, but the meaty hands of a security guard.

"Oi!" Before she could twist around, her arms were yanked behind her back and ropes squeezed the energy out of her, literally. As soon as the stupid binds tied against her wrists, any fighting juice left in her body slipped away. She felt herself being lifted from the ground, but her limbs tingled like she hadn't used them in forever.

"Come with me." Buttercup could hear the witch of the woman whisper softly, probably speaking to Carlos. She couldn't really tell because a black piece of fabric was secured around her head, covering eyes that desperately wanted to burn through the blindfold.

"Let him go, you witch. Get this shit off me!" She snarled. Buttercup had just begun to go through the list of every combination of profanities she could think of when the air changed, a door slammed, and she could no longer hear Carlos's whimpers.

In fact, she couldn't hear anything. Not the labored breathing of the bodyguards, or the soft piano music that had been playing through the lobby, or even the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

"You fucks better be ready to face the wrath of hell when I get out of this." Buttercup growled to whoever was listening. Her voice was dead in the room. Seconds passed and there was no response. No sound of movement. She was alone.

A younger Buttercup would have continued to thrash about and scream until her voice cracked and her throat was dry. This wasn't the same loose canon of a little green eyed girl. Buttercup had learned some things about control—forced it unto herself—and after a while it became as natural as breathing.

So, instead of freaking out and allowing her inner fire to turn into a toxic blaze, Buttercup turned this into a test, a challenge.

A deep inhale and exhale disturbed her nostrils with dusty, stuffy particles of air. She was probably in a supply closet. There could be weapons, or items that she could use as such. Buttercup could do some serious damage with a broomstick.

But the green Puff was also exhausted. Despite being pissed off, the idea of swinging anything around made her arms ache. Fighting was a last resort, at this point.

She took in another deep inhale and exhale to focus on her next most pressing issue. Where was Carlos?

The old witch sounded sickeningly sweet as she spoke to him, so he probably wasn't in any physical danger with her. That did nothing to ease her anxiety about not being close to the little boy but at least they were far from Ace. This side of town didn't see petty criminals like him. Again, what was Butch doing with an address like this?

Another long inhale and exhale and Buttercup came back to her instincts.

The recognition in the receptionists eyes were clear as day when Butch's name passed her lips. If Buttercup had to guess how Butch got a place as nice as this, she would probably pin it on the stacks of white powder she peeped in the trunk of Butch's Escalade. Not the mention the pile of money, and a fancy, leather burgundy briefcase that looked like it belonged in the hands of an important business man.

Before she could take another deep breath and tackle the problem of how he came into possession of all that contraband, the air grew thick. The hairs on her arms spiked from her pores as she felt another presence enter the room.

"I should kill you right now." The low, husky voice she thought she wouldn't have to deal with until much later rumbled against the walls of the presumably small room. She could feel it. She was fucked. Ignoring the churning in her stomach that screamed at her to get the fuck out, Buttercup straightened up.

"Yeah? Go ahead and see if I don't laser your face off before you lift a finger." Her voice remained strong and lethal despite her obvious disadvantage. She had been trying to laser off the blindfold since the damn thing was forcibly pulled over her face, but the heat behind her eyeballs just wouldn't get hot enough.

Plus she couldn't see shit.

"You'd kill a man before he finally sees his son? Damn, no wonder you Powderpuffs have been out of commision." His mocking tone was laced with malice.

"Screw you. Where is he?"

"The kid? He's cool. He's with the witch." She could hear the smirk behind his voice and wanted so badly to see it wiped off, by her fist of course.

"You got three seconds to untie me before I—"

"Save your empty threats for someone who's actually fuckin' scared of ya, Puff. Why don't you tell me why you're here before I kick your ass?"

"I asked you first. A long fucking time ago actually, so until you answer my question—"

Before she could finish, a rough hand snatched her chin. A choked gasp escaped between her lips as her head was shoved upwards to a painful angle. The body heat emanated from Butch overwhelmed her as menacing vibes rolled off him in waves. Being grabbed like that while blindfolded was scary in its own right, and if Buttercup wasn't the rightful owner of the toughest fighter title, she would've pissed herself in terror.

"You're in my territory." His low growl was two inches from her face. "You're gonna answer my questions and do whatever the fuck I say. Or else you can say goodbye to Carlos."

She wasn't going to pretend the man gripping the life out of her face wasn't the same little shit who's face she used to shove into the gravel over and over again. Even if he wasn't so little anymore.

Buttercup remembered how hard Carlos had been clutching her hand in the hospital when they came upon Butch. To say she was surprised to see him would be an understatement. It was like coming up on a ghost. Buttercup was sure she had kissed this problem away years ago.

Now, he looked dangerous and worthy of a fight with his bulky muscles taut against his clothing and his powerful frame towering over hers. She had no choice but to kick him across the room then. Buttercup was sure the kid was gonna wet himself.

Buttercup narrowed her eyes in her own menacing way, even though he probably couldn't see the action through the stupid blindfold. "You wouldn't hurt a child, or are you even more of a monster than I thought?"

"Right on both counts." Another smirky response. Asshole.

He wouldn't hurt the kid, at least that's what Buttercup figured from his ambiguous answer. That still didn't cut it for her. A villain is a villian, and it's the ones who don't give a fuck about their victims that are the most dangerous.

There were no benefits to resisting Butch. She decided to be a good girl...for now. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you find this place?"

"It was the only address on that fancy-ass navigation system you got."

"Why did you take my car?"

"I wasn't gonna lug your unconscious ass and a seven year old kid around. I needed a ride."

"What were you even doing at the hospital?"

He growled but Buttercup caught his voice as it turned gravely, almost pained. Victor was an obvious soft spot for him, considering his out of control behavior back at the hospital. She had worked for Victor for enough time, that Butch's name should've come up at some point..if Butch's breakdown was any indication of how close they were.

"I was coming back to check on Victor. He's my boss...er, was." Her own solemn feelings fell into her response.

"...you've gotta be shitting me." She heard him grunt.

"What? You don't believe me? Take off this damn blindfold so you can look me in the eyes, then." She didn't think this simple fact was important enough for all that, but a millisecond later and Buttercup was staring right into deep, soul-piercing, forest green orbs.

"Fucking tell me you don't teach group classes at Victor's gym."

Buttercup furrowed her eyebrows at the oddly specific question. "Wait, so, do you want me to lie now, or—"

"Dammit!" He ran a hand through his slick hair, tugging at the short, black tresses. Buttercup took his moment of panic as a chance to survey her surroundings. The room was small, as she suspected. Maybe five people could stand side by side.

The wall to her right had a sink, and a bucket of cleaning supplies. Large, silver, metal luggages were in a tall, neat stack in the back corner. The wall directly in front of her had metal rails attached with clothes, housekeeping uniforms, hanging from them. Other than those things and the wooden chair Buttercup was bound in, the room was empty. The floor was super clean, too clean for a dusty, dingy closet like this.

Not exactly the bright walls and curated furniture she had seen before. But then again, no one locks prisoners up in pretty rooms, right?

Buttercup was eager to ask him questions of her own, like what the deal was between him and her former boss, or why the hell he had enough drugs in his trunk to get the whole neighborhood high and then some.

More than that, Buttercup just wanted to get whatever this was over with and sleep.

"Listen, Butch. I know we're not exactly friends-"

"I want to squeeze my hands around your fucking throat."

"Same here. But, I'm willing to put aside our differences and your general terribleness, if you let me and Carlos...stay...at your place." It wasn't exactly a wild idea. The place obviously had great security, Ace would never think to look here, and instead of spending money at a hotel, Buttercup could blackmail Butch for free.

"Fuck no."

"I saw the drugs. I'll call the cops."

Butch simply laughed.

"I don't have many options, Butch. My apartment was burnt to the damn ground-"

"Don't fucking care." She didn't really expect him to, but a sleep-deprived Buttercup would try anything once. He rolled up his sleeves and cracked his knuckles. Buttercup faintly understood the actual danger she was in and grew desperate. She couldn't leave another person behind.

"What are you gonna do, huh? Kill me? Stuff me a box and dump me in the ocean? I'm still a public figure, you dumbass. People are gonna come looking for me. My sisters are gonna come look for me. And all those nurses you went Hulk on are gonna remember you were the last person I was seen with."

Buttercup watched him grow irritated as she spoke. She was right and he better know it.

"I won't tell anyone where you live or what I saw. I just need a little bit of time to figure something out."

She hoped his quiet death stare meant he was considering it. His Adam's apple bobbed with a thick swallow and he flicked his gaze away from her. Buttercup sensed an uneasy vibe from him, which was ironic because he wasn't the one bound to a fucking chair with terrifyingly strong ropes in the presence of their unrestricted arch nemesis.

Butch yanked open the door and left. The door slammed before Buttercup could call him the douchebag he was.

Butch yanked open the door and left. The door slammed before Buttercup could call him the douchebag he was.

A few long seconds later, he re-entered with two security guards, who looked unqualified next to him, and Carlos, trailing behind him with one wrist enclosed in Butch's much larger hand.

Buttercup's lips parted slightly in relief as her hands were untied. She immediately rushed to grab Carlos, and the energy she had lost slowly seeped back into her bloodstream. A warmth spread in her chest when his small limbs wrapped tightly around her like a koala.

"It's okay. We're fine. No one's gonna hurt you." Buttercup ran her fingers through Carlos's curls as she locked a scathing glare on Butch.

Everything about the man was like a contemporary stature. He was eerily still, yet calm in his stance. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his sweats. His head tilted back lazily as he looked down his nose at her with an ambivalent gaze.

"Two days."

* * *

 **A/N:** ** **Shorter chapter once again. Honestly, it was gonna be much longer but the pacing just didn't feel right and I didn't want to overwhelm you guys. Next chapter should come pretty soon and will have the Reds making another appearance. As always, I love reading your reviews, they literally make my chest warm.****

 **To Ruffle: This chapter (another short one, I hope you still enjoy it!) should answer some of those questions about Carlos. ;) As for Boomer, lol yes this guy swears Bubbles is an angel. Just like everyone else though, things for them will be far from peaches and cream. As always, its great reading your reactions :D**

 **To Traverse: I know, dude. This little guy hasn't had the best life. Will it change for the better or will fate continue to be against him?**

 **To Elisa: Thank you! I think I was very wordy in this chapter, and potentially the next. That's something I'm working on balancing so you guys get just enough action and emotion and well as thoughts and plot fill**

 **To Guest: You're so sweet! Honestly, at a basic level, this is like an angels vs demons story, but its trying so hard to be so much more. Your reviews keep me going!**


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